Poetry and Yoga for the Silly at Heart

Just for fun, if you are reading this today and you like to play with words and yoga, try this exercise! Please post your poem in the comments section.

1. Take this quote:

My food is loaded with butter, and you know I wonder sometimes about the morality of my profession, as to whether or not what I’m doing is essentially wrong, not the service part, not the sentiment part, but that, that I’m an enabler, but the reason I justify it is that I ride a motorcycle which is equally stupid, that if you want to eat pancakes with sugared fruit on top, and you get a good deal of pleasure from doing that, you have a right to pursue that pleasure, just like the guy who sells me the motorcycle, it’s not really my place to judge these people, that’s what freedom is all about.
-Kenny Shopsin from I Like Killing Flies

2. Incorporate at least one phrase from the above quote, and write a short poem using the word ‘yoga.’

3. Repost the poem in the comments section.

Here’s a wonderful sample from one of my regular students Ruth Evans Lane:

Judging Warrior

I wonder if whether what I’m doing
is essentially wrong,
not the breathing part,
not the savasana part
but that,
that my thighs are never parallel to the ground
in Warrior I.

But the reason I justify it
is equally stupid,
that if I want to go to yoga,
if I get a good deal of pleasure from doing that,
then I should pursue that dubious pleasure
of alignment
.

I love this! Thanks Ruth.

3 Replies to “Poetry and Yoga for the Silly at Heart”

  1. This was a pleasure!

    Moral Judgement

    My food is loaded with butter
    which reminds me of the softness
    of my joints, nestled as they are
    hinging on my lean long limbs.

    Butter equals yoga for the tongue
    awakening the senses: of sweet
    of thickness, of warmth, of pink
    tantric collusion with huge cosmos.

    How else might I incorporate abundance,
    Govinda? Unless it is here, now, with
    a bun dancing – butter laced, raisin loaded
    sugar coated? More happy than a calf

    in the spring time, I nourish cherished
    beliefs. Shakti Lakshmi, Shanti Shanti
    Om Maha Vishu, preserver provider
    hidden in my tissues, feed me life.

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